B    2 


tllKIHY 

LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF 
CALIFORNIA 


SSP 


I 


JAMES   E.  McGIRT. 


AVENGING  THE  AAAINE, 
A  DRUNKEN  A.  \\ 

AND  OTHER  POENS. 


BY 

.mils  I:I>III?«IM  McG 


THIRD    REVISED  AND  ENLARGED   EDITION. 


PHILADELPHIA: 

GEORGE  F.  LASHER.  PRINTER  AND  BINDER. 
1901. 


LOAN  STACK 


Copyrighted,   1899,  by 
James  E.  McGirt. 


/ 


PREFACE. 


I  do  not  deem  it  necessary  to  write  a  preface  to 
these  few  poems  but,  somehow,  I  have  a  tender  feel 
ing  for  this  little  book  that  is  about  to  be  sent  out 
into  the  world,  to  bear  such  an  humble  burden  as 
my  feeble  thought.  I  do  not  know,  but  I  believe  that 
if  this  book  could  speak  it  would  sternly  refuse  to  go 
on  such  an  humble  mission;  but,  since  I  have  imposed 
upon  it  this  duty,  knowing  the  many  censuring  critics 
it  may  have  to  encounter,  I  believe  it  my  duty  to  say 
a  word,  for  the  very  book's  sake,  that  may  cause  the 
censuring  tongue  of  man  to  wag  less  swiftly. 

First,  I  must  say  that  these  poems  were  written  un 
der  very  unfavorable  circumstances.  Dignity  may  not 
allow  me  to  explain,  but  I  will  say  that  they  were  com 
posed  during  my  leisure  time,  which  has  been  limited. 
I  say  leisure  time — no,  I  have  none;  I  should  have 
said  sacrificed  time,  time  when  the  body  was  almost 
exhausted  from  manual  labor,  when  recreation  was 
greatly  needed;  and  you  who  know  what  a  struggle 
the  mind  has  battling  with  an  exhausted  body  in  try 
ing  to  perform  such  a  task  as  this  can  easily  allow 
for  this  feeble  result.  The  mind  can  not  work  when 
the  body  is  exhausted,  and  I  assure  you  that  I  would 
not  have  written  one  line  had  Nature  not  forced  me 
to  do  so.  Often  at  my  work-bench,  when  I  thought 


008 


6 

greater  speed  was  needed  to  finish  my  daily  task,  these 
poems — or  whatever  you  may  call  them — would  flash 
into  my  mind  and  I  would  be  restless  to  sketch  them 
upon  paper  that  I  might  retain  them  until  my  day's 
work  was  done.  Sometimes  I  could  find  it  conveni 
ent  to  do  so,  sometimes  I  could  not,  and  when  I  would 
fail  to  sketch  them,  at  night  the  muse  would  not  re 
turn.  Thus  you  can  understand  why  I  have  not 
written  more. 

I  must  also  state  that  I  am  conscious  of  the  fact  that 
this  work  does  not  come  up  to  the  sandard  work  of 
the  mighty  masters;  of  poetry,  but  you  need  not  cen 
sure  me — it  is  not  my  fault.  The  muse  has  not  yet 
taught  me  to  sing  as  they.  Had  she  given  me  the 
same  power,  do  you  not  think  I  would  have  written? 

Moreover,  I  am  just  beginning,  and  perhaps  she 
does  not  care  to  intrust)  me  with  the  whole  art  at 
once;  she  may  have  thought  it  best  to  give  me  one 
talent  first  that  she  might  see  how  I  would  use  it, 
and  I  assure  you  that  I  think  I  should  have  done  bet 
ter.  Often  I  have  thought  of  laying  these  few  poems 
aside  and  not  giving  any  to  the  public  until  I  became 
able  to  write  as  good  poems  as  other  poets.  I  publish 
them  because  I  do  not  wish  the  muse  to  find  me  with 
my  one  talent  buried  when  she  comes  to  make  up  her 
jewels  and  reward  her  servants.  She  might  serve  me 
as  his  lord  did  the  other  one-talented  servant  we  read 
of  in  the  Bible. 

JAMES  EPHRAIM  McGIRT. 

Greensboro,  N.  C., 

August  17,  1899. 


EXPLAINING    DIALECT    POEMS. 


You  may  wonder  why  the  dialect  words  in  my  hum 
orous  poems  are  so  few  compared  with  those  in  other 
dialect  poems,  but  if  you  will  notice  such  characters  as 
I  have  portrayed  you  will  find,  as  I  have,  that  the  most 
illiterate  persons,  living  now  among  so  many  who  are 
cultured,  do  not  speak  the  whole  dialect,  but  speak 
correctly  one-half  of  their  words.  So  I  have  written 
just  as  the  masses  impressed  me. 


CONTENTS. 


I'.M.l    . 

Avenging  the  Maine 11 

Tli*'  Memory  of  Maceo 17 

Siege  of  Manilla 18 

Siege  of  Santiago 22 

The  Stars  and  Stripes  Shall  Never  Trail  the  Dust.  24 

Slavery   29 

Wave  on  Thou  Flag 31 

Seeking  Her  Boy 32 

Memory  of  Lincoln  and  the  Yankees 34 

The  Death  of  Hector 36 

A  Drunken  A.  B 39 

Envy 48 

A  Lecture 49 

Tne  Girl  and  the  Birds 50 

Summer  is  Gone 51 

The  End  of  Day 52 

The  Evening 55 

Africa's  Cry  56 

The  Stars  57 

Nothing  to  Do 59 

The  Signs  of  Death 60 

Satan 64 

Life's  Road  65 

Classes 66 

Fortune's  Wheel  67 

Show   Your  Love 68 

Memory  of  the  Old  Times 69 

Don't  Laugh,  Boys 71 


10 

PAGE. 

My   Song    72 

Our  Picnic 73 

Edith 74 

Ode  to  Love 75 

Herod's  Slaughter  of  the  Babes 76 

Ambition    79 

A  View  of  Childhood 80 

Reason,  Sad  World 82 

The  Wealthy  Nigah 84 

The  Boy's  Opportunity 89 

"No  Use  in  Signs" 90 

The  Memory  of  Frances  Willard 92 

I'll  Enter  the  Saloon  No  More 94 

Tinker  Israel 96 

Ode  to  Conscience 99 

Two  Spirits   100 

The  Parting  Soldiers 101 

My  Lonely  Homestead 102 

An  Appeal  104 

Why  Sneer  at  th'  Errors  Our  Fathers  Made 107 

Virtue  Alone  Can  Make  Men  Great 108 

To  Her  That  Weeps 109 

Heathen  Land   110 

Blame  Not  The  Poet Ill 

To  the  Memory  of  W.  W.  Browne 112-114 

De  'Scursion  Dat  Yer  Rode 116 

Why  Should  I  Deplore 117 

God  Bless  the  Sailors 118 

Gib  ter  Me  a  Lock  ob  yer  Hair 119 


AVENGING  THE  MAINE. 

Sing,  0  Muse!  the  avenging  of  the  Maine, 

The  direful  woes,  the  fate  of  Spain. 

A  heinous  deed  t'  our  ship  they  wrought, 

Untimely  death  t'  our  crew  they  brought. 

Our  soldiers  valor  ever  tell, 

Who  for  free  Cuba  fought  and  fell  ; 

Volcanic  boats  o'er  water  went, 

The  glowing  shells  on  them  were  sent. 

Of  Shatter's  army,  tell  me  all 

Who  rallied  bravely  to  the  call  ? 

What  of  the  negroes  in  the  band, 

And  did  they  go  or  did  they  stand  ? 

To  this  question  I'll  answer  brief, 
So  well  they  fought  without  a  chief. 
I'll  sing  of  this,  the  glorious  time 
When  negro  valor  shone  sublime; 
In  the  hottest  battle  their  captain  died, 
They  did  not  flee,  but  "  Onward,"  cried. 
Their  eyes  on  vict'ry  firmly  fixed, 
That  day  both  races'  blood  was  mixed. 
These  are  the  first  to  reach  the  land, 
There  were  no  cowards  in  the  band  ; 
When  all  the  story  you  shall  hear, 
They  unto  you'll  seem  most  dear. 


12 

Hold  of  her  harp  the  Muse  then  takes, 

A  minor  cord  on  it  she  makes ; 

And  all  are  curious  to  hear, 

But  from  her  eye  there  falls  a  tear ; 

Her  voice  is  hushed  by  some  strange  spellr 

As  from  the  strings  her  fingers  fell. 

And  on  her  face  there  came  a  frown, 
She  took  a  seat  upon  the  ground, 
Then  to  her  side  they  quickly  went, 
As  from  her  breast  a  groan  she  sent. 
Within  our  arms  we  held  her  head, 
And  to  the  Muse  we  softly  said : 
"  Tell  us,  0  Muse !  what  giv'st  grief, 
And  if  we  can  we'll  give  relief?" 

Then  from  her  breast  again  she  sighed, 
With  throbbing  voice  to  us  replied : 
"  The  story  which  you  urge  to  hear 
No  one  can  tell  without  a  tear. 
Ah  !  grief  to  you  this  tale  will  bring, 
If  I  in  po'try  play  and  sing. 
I  can  not  sing  the  grievous  woes, 
I'll  tell  the  story  all  in  prose. 
Pray  listen  now  with  greatest  care, 
If  the  sad  story  you  would  hear ; 


LI 


The  origin  now  I  will  relate, 

That  coming  sons  may  know  the  fate. 

"  In  Cuba's  land  a  nation  brave, 
Whom  the  cruel  Spaniards  held  as  slave. 
One  night  their  braves  in  conf 'rence  met 
To  plot  their  freedom  best  to  get, 
For  they  the  yoke  of  slavery  bore 
Until  their  shoulders  galded  sore. 
Twas  Maceo  first  took  the  stand, 
For  he  was  leader  of  the  band  ; 
Unto  them  all  he  did  declare 
He  could  no  longer  slavery  bear. 
A  bill  to  Spain  he  sent  to  see 
If  they  would  set  the  Cubans  free ; 
And  when  the  bill  to  Spain  was  sent, 
To  full  enraged  the  bill  they  rent ; 
And  to  the  soldiers  she  did  tell, 

4  Go !     Murder  Cubans !     They  rebel !' 
No  Cuban  leaders  could  they  get, 
There  was  a  skirmish  when  they  met ; 
And  when  they  drove  the  brave  away, 
The  helpless  women  they  would  slay  ; 
They  murdered  babes  that  knew  no  harm — 
They  snatched  them  from  the  mothers1  arm. 


14 

While  killing  all  by  sword  they  could, 
From  others  they  withheld  their  food, 
While  thus  to  starve  a  Cuban  race; 
To  us  it  seemed  a  sad  disgrace. 
Freedom  of  Cuba  was  our  plea; 
We  called  upon  our  General  Lee. 
Our  beloved  Lee  to  Cuba  sent 
To  see  what  the  cruel  Spaniards  meant. 
With  him  we  sent  our  ship  the  Maine, 
As  Spain  to  us  had  done  the  same; 
And  both  was  in  a  truce's  name. 
Our  ship  in  Cuba's  harbor  stood  ; 
But  Spain  was  eager  for  our  blood. 
And  in  the  secret  of  the  night 
On  us  exploded  a  dynamite  ; 
And  while  her  crew  were  fast  asleep, 
Some  hurled  into  the  mighty  deep. 
The  ship  went  down  beneath  the  wave 
Before  we  could  our  sailors  save. 
I  can  not  picture  this  sad  sight, 
Nor  bear  to  think  of  that  dread  night, 
When  they  performed  the  cruel  deed, 
Unless  my  heart  is  made  to  bleed. 
And  thus  this  story  you  abhor ; 
I've  told  the  causes  of  the  war. 


15 

"  The  news  was  sent  by  swiftest  speed, 
Announcing  Spain's  most  cruel  deed. 
So  great  the  grief  and  wrath  it  brought, 
To  hear  the  deed  the  Spaniards  wrought, 
O'er  all  the  world  a  clamor  rose, 
And  all  the  world  the  clamor  knows; 
While  some  were  counting  up  the  cost, 
Still  others  wailing  o'er  the  lost. 
To  war !  To  war !  our  voices  rang ; 
To  war !  To  war !  the  song  we  sang. 
To  the  White  House  we  quickly  went, 
Demanding  war  of  President. 
In  Senate,  war  was  the  loud  cry ; 
Our  President  did  not  comply ; 
To  all  the  people  he  would  say : 
To  go  to  war  is  more  than  play. 

"  The  bill  for  war  he  would  declare, 
He  could  not  sign  till  he  prepare. 
But  soon  his  plans  had  been  well  made— 
The  cry  for  war  he  then  obeyed. 
For  volunteers  at  first  he  asked, 
To  get  them  did  not  seem  a  task, 
And  every  time  a  call  was  made, 
Our  loyal  sons  at  once  obeyed. 


16 


Of  heroes  brave  I  now  will  tell, 

Who  fought  for  freedom  long  and  well ; 

Of  Dewey  and  Sampson  first  I'll  sing, 

And  on  my  harp  their  names  shall  ring. 

"They  first  for  freedom  made  their  way  ; 

The  woe  of  Spain  began  that  day ; 

It  seemed  as  He,  the  God  Supreme, 

Down  from  His  throne  viewed  all  the  scene 

'The  deed  of  Spain  He  did  abhor, 

Lent  us  His  aid  throughout  the  war. 

With  every  fleet  a  guard  was  sent 

"To  keep  us  safe  where'er  we  went ; 

Around  the  mines  show'd  us  a  path, 

He  held  the  guns  that  hurled  our  wrath. 

"The  aid  to  us  was  beyond  cost ; 

And  not  a  boat  of  ours  was  lost. 

Now  Hobson's  valor  must  be  told ; 

'Twas  brave  as  any  of  the  fold, 

The  deed  that  made  for  him  a  name, 

And  I,  a  Muse,  must  sing  his  fame ; 

He  sank,  to  block  the  Spaniard's  way, 

The  Merrimac  into  the  bay. 

He  reached  the  shore,  and  woe'd  begun 

"That  would  not  cease  till  vict'ry  come." 


17 


THE  MEMORY  OF  MACEO. 

Ye  men  of  Cuba,  patriots  all, 

Pray  !  mourn  for  your  leader !  place  crape  on  the 

wall ; 

Go  tell  the  young  children  that  play  at  your  feet 
Of  the  wonderful  general  who's  fallen  to  sleep. 

To  sleep !  yes  calm  in  the  earth  he  lies ; 

But  his  spirit  rests  sweetly  beyond  the  blue  skies. 

We  think  of  his  work,  and  say  he  was  grand ; 
Why  not  let  for  hirn  a  monument  stand  ; 
One  that  will  reach  to  the  ethereal  blue, 
Bearing  the  name  Maceo,  will  do. 

Dear  Maceo,  our  hearts  pine  for  thee ! 
For  whom  thou  died,  can  say  we  are  free. 


18 


THE   SIEGE  OF  MANILA. 


A  few  miles  from  Manila  Bay 
Just  at  the  close  of  a  summer  day, 
The  sun  had  stained  as  gold  the  west, 
Our  fleet  was  ordered  to  stop  and  re<t ; 
After  the  regular  meals  were  served, 
And  each  returned  to  the  usual  place, 
Stood  gazing  all  with  mute  and  awe 
Into  the  fiery  dome  of  space ; 
Stood  watching  we  their  steady  blaze 
As  down  on  us  they  seemed  to  gaze. 

I  never  shall  forget  the  night, 

The  silvery  stars  were  shining  bright ; 

A  full- orbed  moon  hung  in  the  west, 

As  if  to  see  the  great  contest ; 

The  wind  was  of  a  steady  gale, 

It  was  a  pleasant  night  to  sail ; 

The  ocean  waves  were  rolling  long, 

And  pealing  forth  their  mournful  sound. 

Soon  from  the  sea  a  mist  arose, 

Then  nature's  starry  book  was  closed ; 


19 

And  when  the  night  had  well  nigh  passed- 
The  rosy  morn  was  coming  fast ; 
Before  the  dawn  proclaimed  the  day, 
We  sailed  to  take  Manila  Bay. 
So  soon  Manila  'vealed  in  sight, 
•  From  out  the  windows  gleamed  a  light ; 
And  when  we  saw  the  deadly  guns — 
O'er  all  our  fleet  a  stillness  come — 
Each  man  stood  waiting  by  his  gun 
In  perfect  stillness,  not  a  breath — 
An  instant  may  bring  sudden  death. 
Yet  like  heroes  firm  they  stand  ; 
They  yearned  to  hear  the  "  fire  "  command. 
The  mist  that  from  the  ocean  rose 
Obscured  us  from  our  Spanish  foes, 
And  when  the  Spaniards  did  not  blast 
Among  our  fleet  a  whisper  passed. 

Fortune,  it  seems,  is  on  our  side, 
We  have  entered  and  are  not  spied ; 
Began  we  by  the  fort  to  start, 
A  distance  though  we  sailed  apart, 
Then  quietly  by  the  guns  we  stole 
As  wolves  into  a  shepherd's  fold ; 


20 


Soon  all  our  fleet  had  safely  passed, 
Except  McCulloch,  which  was  last. 
Ah !  fortune  would  not  let  it  pass ; 
In  its  furnace  occurred  a  wreck, 
And  sparks  went  flying  from  its  stack. 
The  sparks  that  from  the  stack  did  fly 
Met  all  at  once  the  fortman's  eye. 
Through  glasses  they  began  to  peep, 
To  their  surprise  they  spied  our  fleet. 
A  cry  of  terror!   Signals  rung, 
The  shells  came  blazing  from  each  gun. 
Before  an  instant  could  have  passed, 
Around  us  shells  were  falling  fast ; 
Their  mines  in  vain  they  did  explode, 
But  we  all  safe  the  harbor  rode. 
Our  captain  gave  command  to  fire, 
Which  seemed  to  be  our  soul's  desire; 
Before  the  word  he  could  repeat, 
The  shells  went  blazing  from  our  fleet ; 
As  we  were  burn'd  with  hatred  dire, 
We  filled  the  air  with  shells  and  fire. 
And  while  the  battle's  raging  high 
The  glowing  shells  were  falling  nigh ; 
Then  Dewey  back  through  memory  gazed- 
And  saw  the  Maine,  became  enraged ; 


21 


Then  with  his  dazzling  s\vord  in  hand 
He  whirled  it  high  and  gave  command. 
With  blazing  fury  in  his  eye, 
With  thundering  voice  was  heard  to  cry, 
"  Remember  the  Maine !     Speed !     Haste ! 
Be  careful,  boys,  no  shells  to  waste." 
Remembered  they  their  blood  did  run ; 
They  hurled  revenge  through  every  gun. 
Each  boat  like  Vesuvius  seems, 
From  out  our  guns  shells  poured  in  streams. 
Directed  by  the  Immortal  Eye 
No  stray  ward  shells  were  seen  to  fly ; 
The  shells  from  out  the  guns  that  went, 
Performed  the  deed  for  which  'twere  sent. 
Our  captain  takes  his  glass  in  hand, 
And  o'er  the  battle  'gins  to  scan: 

"Oh  stop  the  guns,"  he  quickly  cried, 

"As  fortune  now  is  on  our  side; 
The  Spanish  fleet  is  in  a  blaze, 
And  sinking  fast  beneath  the  wave." 
When  this  command  to  us  was  given, 
Three  haughty  cheers  went  up  to  heaven ; 
And  when  the  sun  sent  up  her  beam, 
No  Spanish  boat  was  to  be  seen ; 
The  whole  of  Spain's  Manila  fleet 
Was  buried  in  the  mighty  deep. 


22 

SIEGE  OF  SANTIAGO. 


'Twas  here  the  fort  of  Spain  did  stand, 
The  strongest  post  of  all  the  land ; 
And  when  we  entered  in  the  bay, 
The  eyes  of  all  were  turned  that  way, 
So  restless,  they  eager  to  see 
The  one  to  conquer,  who  'twould  be. 
There  Morro  Castle  standing  bold, 
So  strong  it  was  in  days  of  old ; 
Its  deadly  guns  all  seemed  to  say: 
"I'll -hold  the  entrance  of  the  bay." 
A  pleasant  morn,  a  Sabbath  day, 
We  all  were  resting  in  the  bay ; 
So  soon  our  day  of  peace  did  change, 
It  proved  a  day  for  our  revenge. 
As  Sampson's  heart  did  eager  yearn 
The  plans  of  Cevera  to  learn ; 
Commanded  Schley  to  ascend  the  shore, 
Perchance  the  plans  he  might  explore. 
Somehow  these  orders  seemed  divine, 
His  sailing  was  the  proper  time; 
While  on  their  way,  to  their  surprise, 
A  coming  vessel  met  their  eyes. 


88 

The  flag  they  raised  that  they  might  greet, 

Behold!    It  was  Cevera's  fleet, 

Came  rushing  out  in  swiftest  speed ; 

Destructive  boats  were  in  the  lead. 
"The  boats  are  fleeing!"  Schley  then  cried; 

He  sounded  the  signal  far  and  wide. 

Before  the  story  he  could  tell 

The  air  was  filled  with  fire  and  shell ; 

The  shells  they  sent  went  not  in  vain ; 

They  proved  a  direful  fate  to  Spain. 

Their  ships  in  flames  of  fire  were  blazed — 

'Till  we  on  them  in  pity  gazed, 

And  sent  a  boat  in  chivalry's  name, 

To  save  them  from  the  burning  flame. 

Their  direful  fate's  too  great  to  tell, 

To  them  it  proved  a  fiery  hell. 

As  Schley  stood  gazing  left  and  right, 

To  him  it  seemed  a  dreadful  sight ; 

The  ships  in  flames  on  every  side: 
"The  battle's  won,"  he  quickly  cried. 

Ah !  many  Spaniards  on  that  day 

Were  burned  and  buried  in  the  bay. 


24 


THE  STARS  AND  STRIPES  SHALL 
NEVER  TRAIL  THE  DUST. 


'Tis  a  colored  captain's  story 
'Twas  told  to  Uncle  Sam, 

He  was  mustered  out  because  the  war  was  o'er  ; 
He'd  borne  his  honor  bravely, 
The  victory  he  had  won, 

He  came  to  render  up  the  flag  he  bore. 

He  was  standing  at  the  White  House 
With  th'  Stars  and  Stripes  in  hand, 

His  sword  and  uniform  with  gore  were  red  ; 
A  shell  had  pierced  his  body, 
Yet  had  not  caused  his  death ; 

He  gave  to  him  the  flag  and  slowly  said  : 

"  Uncle  Sam,  here  is  Old  Glory, 
That  you  trusted  to  my  care, 

Through  th'  hottest  I  have  ever  held  my  trust ; 
Though  shells  have  rent  my  body, 
Yet  Lean  truly  say, 

The  Stars  and  Stripes  have  never  trailed   the 
dust. 


The  Stars  and  Stripes  shall  never  trail  the  dust." 


27 

"  No,  the  Stars  and  Stripes  shall  never  trail  the 

dust  while  I  live, 

But  shall  ever  wave  untarnished  ov'r  the  free  ; 
Yes,  the  shells  may  rend  my  body, 
And  may  death  eome  if  it  must, 
But  the  Stars  and  Stripes  shall   never  trail  the 
'      dust." 


Uncle  Sam  then  took  the  flag, 
And  gazed  into  his  face ; 

He  said :  "  My  son,  you're  black,  but  still  you're 

a  man ;  " 

On  his  breast  he  placed  a  medal, 
And  said,  remember  me ; 

Forget  you ;  no,  my  boy,  I  never  can  ! 


Your  Uncle  knows  no  color, 
And  neither  party  line  ; 

The  call  I  made  was  simply  for  the  brave. 
You  loving  soldiers  heard  me, 
And  rallied  to  the  call ; 

My  country  from  destruction  you  have  saved. 


28 

I  saw  you  negroes  bear  the  flag 
Through  shells  up  San  Juan  Hill, 

I  saw  the  Spaniards  from  your  valor  flee ; 
The  Stars  and  Stripes  are  waving 
O'er  Morro  Castle  bold, 

And  waving  now  in  Cuba  o'er  the  free. 


D 


Now  the  Stars  and  Stripes  shall  never  trail  the- 

dust  while  I  live ; 

But  shall  ever  wave  untarnished  o'er  the  free  ; 
Yes,  the  shells  may  rend  my  body, 
And  may  death  come  if  it  must, 
But  the  Stars  and  Stripes  shall  never  trail  the  dust.. 


29 

SLAVERY. 


Oh,  slavery !  why  was  thou  so  cruel, 

So  cursed  and  so  black ; 
To  leave  your  cruel  footprints 

Upon  our  father's  back. 

Oh,  say,  why  did  you  beat  him, 
Thou  should'st  have  said  depart? 

Oh,  why  was  thou  so  cruel 
As  to  crush  his  manly  heart? 

And  even  now  his  hair  is  gray 
In  blossoms  for  the  grave, 

And  yet  I  see  within  him 

Traits  learned  while  he's  a  slave. 

Why'd  you  net  enslave  the  women, 
And  let  their  virtue  live? 

Oh,  slavery  wast  so  cruel, 
How  can  women  forgive. 

The  women  pure  as  dewdrops, 
As  infants  at  their  birth  ; 

But  slavery's  ravishing  passion 
Crushed  virtue  to  the  earth. 


30 

The  mother  told  the  story ; 

Her  sons  began  to  pine. 
She  pressed  them  to  her  bosom ; 

God  said,  "  Yengence  is  mine." 

I  did  not  tell  the  story 

To  'rage  your  little  hearts  ; 

I  thought  its  cruelties 
To  you  I  would  impart. 

And  if  you  would  seek  vengence, 
The  debt,  life  could  not  pay ; 

Our  God  will  judge  them  rightly 
On  resurrection  day. 


81 


WAVE  ON,  THOU  FLAG. 


Wave  on,  wave  on  the  air, 
Oh  flag  that  we  have  bought ! 

The  Stars  and  Stripes  for  unity, 
They  tell  for  what  we  fought. 

Oh  fade  thou  not  by  rain ; 

May  whirlwinds  passing  by, 
Not  dash  to  threads  thy  noble  form, 

But  leave  thee  in  the  sky. 

Stand  firmly,  thou  mast  pole, 
On  which  the  flag  doth  wave ; 

So  many  who  thy  color  bore 
Are  lying  in  the  grave. 

Oh  fare  the  well,  wave  on, 

Perform  thy  duty  well ; 
Wave  gently  o'er  the  burial  place 

Of  those  who  fought  and  fell. 


32 


SEEKING  HER  BOY. 


Upon  a  battlefield,  when  the  smoke  had  cleared 
away, 

I  saw  a  woman  strolling  'mong  the  dead ; 
It  was  a  mother,  feeble,  old  and  gray ; 

Often  she'd  stoop  and  raise  a  soldier's  head. 


She  seeking  for  her  boy,  her  only  pride, 
A  soldier,  had  been  taken  from  his  home ; 

She'd  heard  that  he  had  fallen  in  the  fray : 
She  came  to  bear  his  body  to  the  tomb. 


She  reached  the  place  where  raged  the  thickest 
fray ; 

The  dead  were  lying  thickly  on  the  ground ; 
'Twas  there  I  saw  the  mother  kneel  and  pray; 

The  loving  boy  the  mother  had  not  found. 


88 

Up  from  the  ground  with  trembling  form  she 


rose 


The  tears  were  falling  freely  from  her  eyes; 
With  folded  arms  toward  heaven  she  gazed: 
"  Oh,  where's  my  boy  !"  with  throbbing  voice 
she  cries. 

She  turned  and  saw  a  form  amid  the  gore ; 

She  knew  it  was  the  body  of  her  own ; 
As  swift  as  lightning  to  the  form  she  tore, 

Around  his  neck  her  arm  was  quickly  thrown. 

She  raised  his  head,  his  blood-stained  lips  she 
kissed, 

She  then  beheld  the  bullet's  gaping  wound  ; 
She  was  too  weak,  and  could  not  gaze  on  this ; 

She  gave  a  cry,  sank  helpless  to  the  ground. 

I  watched  at  length  to  see  the  mother  rise, 
She  did  not  seem  to  raise  her  hoary  head ; 

I  neared  and  paused,  the  mother  by  his  side, 
Still  clinging  to  his  neck,  though  she  was 
dead. 


34 


MEMORY  OF  LINCOLN  AND  THE 
YANKEES. 


Among  the  dear  old  friends  we  people  cherish 
Within  the  highest  portals  of  our  hearts, 

The  name  that  sounds  as  dear  as  dear  old  mother's 
Is  Lincoln's  name,  from  us  'twill  ne'er  depart. 

When  first  I  heard  of  Lincoln  and  the  Yankee 
My  heart  then  reached  the  zenith  of  its  joy, 

And  in  this  heart  of  mine  it  quickly  nestled, 
My  love  for  them  no  force  can  quite  destroy. 

Lord,  if  these  rolling  waves  of  time  and  pleasure 
Should  dash  against  their  sacred  nestling  place, 

Pray  with  Thy  powerful  hand  stay  it  and  guide  us  ; 
May  nothing  from  my  heart  their  love  erase. 

Ye  men  that  fought  and  still  are  living, 

And  in  whose  veins  the  Yankee  blood  holds 
sway ; 

Within  our  hearts  for  thee  there  lives  a  kindness 
That  will  not  be  erased  till  judgment  day. 


Ye  mortals  now  who  lie  in  grave  and  trenches, 
Who  fell  to  free  this  helpless  negro  race  ; 

No  mortal  name  like  thine  we  hold  in  reverence, 
Within  our  hearts  thou  hast  a  sacred  place. 

It's  not  my  wish  to  call  your  soul  from  heaven, 
But  could  I  call  your  body  from  the  ground  ; 

On  earth  thou  rnight'st  live  on  in  peace  for  ages, 
With  sweetest  oil  I'd  daily  balm  your  wounds. 

Oh,  mothers,  now  so  loving  and  so  happy, 

Ye  people  whom  the  Northern  race  hast  freed ; 

Pray  grasp  your  loving  infant  from  the  cradle, 
And  tell  them  of  the  Yankees'  blessed  deed. 


36 


THE  DEATH  OF  HECTOR. 


I'll  not  attempt  the  task 

Of  the  Iliad  to  relate  ; 
But  I  will  tell  of  Hector 

And  how  he  met  his  fate. 

The  Trojan  war  was  o'er, 

With  glowing  chariot  wheels 

The  Greeks  were  driving  madly 
The  Trojans  from  the  field. 

The  Trojans  fled  for  safety 

To  wall  which  they  had  planned  ; 
They  heard  the  voice  of  Priam ; 

High  on  the  wall  he  stands. 

"  0,  wanderer,  haste !"  he  cried. 

"Pray  open  wide  the  gate, 
Unless  the  fleeing  Trojans 

This  day  will  meet  their  fate." 


37 


The  watchman  seized  the  gate, 
So  swift  at  Priam's  command, 

And  all  was  in  and  safe, 
But  Hector  outside  stands. 

lie  stood  in  mad  confusion 

With  fury  in  his  eye, 
And  there  to  meet  Achilles, 

Though  he  is  doomed  to  die. 

His  aged  father  saw  him ; 

He  stood  upon  the  wall ; 
With  withered  hand  he  beat  his  breast, 

With  feeble  lips  he  called : 

"0,  Hector,  son,  pray  enter ; 

Save  us  from  grievous  woes." 
But  Hector  would  not  barken, 
And  then  the  gate  was  closed. 

lie  saw  the  army  coming, 
As  whirlwinds  great  with  speed, 

And  great  Achilles  leading 
By  two  white  foaming  steeds. 


38 


The  chariot  glows  with  fire ; 

Ah,  Hector  meets  his  eyes, 
And  they  go  rushing  swiftly 

As  racers  for  a  prize. 

Achilles'  horse  is  swiftest ; 

The  race  he  seems  to  gain ; 
And  hand  to  hand  in  battle, 

Ah,  Hector,  low  is  slain. 

And  after  they  had  killed  him, 
The  brutal  scene  of  all — 

He's  fastened  to  the  chariot 
And  dragged  around  the  wall. 


A  DRUNKEN  A.  B. 


One  cold  wet  winter  evening 
1  was  hurrying  to  my  home, 

I  passed  a  drunkard  lying  in  the  mire ; 
The  sleet  was  falling  fastly, 
My  heart  for  him  was  moved ; 

I  thought  it  best  to  aid  him  to  the  fire. 

Then  from  the  ground  I  raised  him, 
And  bore  him  to  my  home, 

Which  was  a  little  distance  from  the  place ; 
And  when  my  home  I  entered, 
The  light  had  shone  around, 

There  I  beheld  the  beauty  of  his  face. 

A  fair  young  man  in  prime, 
Who  wore  a  classic  brow ; 

The  rays  of  light  were  gleaming  from  his  eyes, 
And  on  his  vest  a  medal 
With  signature  to  show 

In  college  he  had  won  it  as  a  prize. 


40 

Soon  he  was  sleeping  soundly 
In  a  chair  before  the  fire, 

The  medal  from  his  breast  I  took  and  read : 
I  saw  he  was  an  A.  B. 
The  poet  of  his  class — 

A  valedictorian  the  medal  said. 

'Tvvas  then  my  soul  was  lighten'd, 
I  gazed  into  his  face, 

I  knew  it  was  a  genius  I  had  found ; 
I  thought,  who  threw  the  arrow 
That  pierced  his  manly  heart, 

And  brought  the  noble  victim  to  the  ground? 

At  first  I  deemed  it  rum 
That  brought  him  to  this  state, 

And  then  I  thought,  what  caused  him  first  to 

drink? 

Then  he  was  sleeping  soundly, 
Myself  I  did  not  know, 

And  through  the  night  the  cause  I'd  only  think. 

Next  morning  soon  I  rose, 
His  breakfast  was  prepared  ; 

To  have  him  dine  with  me  I  thought  a  treat. 
To  him  we  all  were  strangers, 
At  first  he  did  refuse ; 

At  last  we  all  prevailed  with  him  to  eat. 


41 

Around  our  family  table, 
He  seated  at  the  head, 

And  while  he  ate,  our  hearts  did  eager  yearn ; 
We  knew  he  was  a  genius, 
Though  fallen  from  the  state, 

And  much  the  cause  we  all  desired  to  learn. 

I  told  him  where  I  found  him, 
His  face  began  to  change; 

I  asked  him  what  had  brought  him  to  this  state  ; 
The  tears  were  falling  fastly, 
"'Twas  Mary,"  he  replied. 

This  story  then  to  me  he  did  relate : 

"After  I  finished  college 
I  was  doing  fairly  well, 

In  Chicago  I  was  cashier  of  a  bank ; 
One  day  there  came  a  letter 
From  the  girl  that  had  my  heart — 

An  arrow  !     Oh,  it  pierced  me,  and  I  sank. 

'  'Twas  from  my  early  childhood 
This  girl  had  won  my  heart, 

Before  our  God  she  promised  to  be  mine ; 
When  time  for  invitations 
To  comrades  should  be  sent, 

The  vow  she  sent  this  letter  to  decline. 


42 

"  I'll  ne'er  forget  that  day; 
Yea,  time  can  ne'er  erase 

The  hour  I  the  letter  did  receive ; 
At  first  I  was  dumbfounded, 
It  seemed  my  heart  would  break — 

Somehow  the  message  I  could  not  believe. 

"I  was  standing  at  my  window, 
The  letter  come  to  hand ; 

I  knew  the  man  to  whom  I  was  dealing  change. 
I  tried  to  bear  it  bravely, 
But  all  could  plainly  see 

With  me  that  there  was  something  going  strange. 

"  The  boy  that  brought  the  letter 
Stood  gazing  in  my  face, 

I  bade  him  go — the  answer  not  to  wait ; 
I  read  the  letter  over, 
And  mused  out  to  myself: 

'  To-night  I'll  call  and  make  the  matter  straight.' 

"  Each  moment  seemed  an  hour, 
Thought  night  would  never  come ; 

My  assistant  I  called  to  take  my  place — 
Then  from  the  bank  I  darted, 
I  hastened  to  her  home ; 

I  wanted  just  to  gaze  into  her  face. 


"She  was  standing  by  the  window, 
And  s;i\v  me  ns  I   came." 


"She  was  standing  by  the  window, 
And  saw  me  as  I  came — 

She  felt  her  guilt,  and  to  a  closet  fled ; 
At  the  door  her  servant  met  me, 
Instructed  what  to  say, 

'There's  no  one  here  but  me,'  he  quickly  said. 

"  Quite  well  I  knew  t'was  false ; 
I  knew  not  what  to  do. 

Had  I  the  means,  death  might  have  been  my  fate. 
I  thought  and  then  departed. 
1  knew  well  she  was  there — 

I  saw  her  when  I  entered  through  the  gate. 

"  Back  to  my  home  I  struggled, 
And  sat  in  deepest  grief; 

I  tried  in  vain  to  pass  the  time  awav. 
Of  course  it  was  then  evening — 
I  thought  I'd  call  at  night. 

A  moment  then  to  me  did  seem  a  day. 

"  Sometimes  'twould  seem  too  hard  ; 
Some  way  the  grief  I  bore, 

I  called  again  before  the  sun  went  down — 
To  be  deceived  again, 
She  took  the  early  train, 

And  with  my  heart  departed  from  the  town. 


46 


"  At  the  door  her  mother  met  me, 

And  the  story  she  did  tell ; 
It  was  then  the  arrow  stung  me, 

And  you  found  me  where  I  fell. 

"  Then  I  did  not  cease  to  love  her, 
But  with  her  desired  to  go; 

For  the  way  I  prayed  her  mother, 
But  she  vowed  she  did  not  know. 

"All  that  night  around  her  mother 
I  wept  and  tried  her  heart  to  win  ; 

On  my  knees  I  knelt  and  prayed  her 
For  her  daughter  she  might  send. 

"  True,  my  mother  did  weep  with  me, 
From  her  the  way  I  could  not  plead ; 

I  decided  then  to  seek  her 

Anywhere  my  heart  should  lead. 

"  Soon  I  left  her  house  next  morning, 
And  to  the  bank  I  went  again ; 

But  my  heart  was  filled  with  sadness, 
It  seemed  all  my  hope  was  vain. 


"  Then  I  gave  up  my  position 

Until  the  next  ensuing  year; 
For  my  heart  was  stolen  from  me — 

I  have  sought  it  far  and  near. 

"  Then  I  told  my  friend  the  story, 
.    He,  too,  wept  when  he  did  hear ; 
Then  he  gave  to  me  some  brandy, 
Said  my  grief  'twould  help  to  bear. 

"  Since  that  day  I've  sadly  wondered 

If  my  lover  I  could  find, 
Since  that  day  the  thirsting  spirit 

To  the  brandy  seems  to  bind. 

"  Eight  months  to-day — I've  not  returned, 
And  neither  she,  this  letter  said ; 

And  since  that  day  I've  been  wondering 
If  the  girl  I  loved  is  dead  ?  " 


48 
ENVY. 


In  a  flower  garden  beautiful  and  tall, 

Stood  a  bloomed  lily  above  them  all ; 

The  lily  was  slender  made, 

Yet  a  humming  bird  stooped  for  shade. 

Evening  came,  it  had  its  rest, 

Saying,  "  In  this  blossom  I'll  build  my  nest; 

In  this  blossom  my  love  will  lie, 

And  I  will  dwell  here  till  I  die." 

Another  bird  saw  him  content ; 

Asked  to  build,  she  gave  consent. 

So  on  one  blossom  build  them  all ; 

Blown  by  a  zephjT  it  breaks  and  falls. 

The  mother  bird  returned  and  found 

Her  nest  and  blossom  on  the  ground. 

To  the  heart  of  a  maiden  tender  and  sweet, 

The  heart  of  a  lover  went  forth  to  meet ; 

To  another  lover  the  maid  seemed  sweet, 

By  the  maid's  consent  he  leaps  to  meet; 

To  one  sweetheart  clings  them  all, 

They  were  too  many  and  had  to  fall. 

The  loving  maid  turned  around 

And  found  the  lovers  upon  the  ground. 


49 


A  LECTURE. 


Now  I  was  gwine  ter  make  er  speech  ; 

I  see  yer  al  begin  to  frown  ; 
Dat  what  I  say  erbout  yer  darkies, 

Yer  tri  ter  hold  each  udder  down. 

Do  I  am  glad  you  ain't  de  master, 
De  one  dat  sets  beyaund  de  kies ; 

Or  ef  I  wusn't  your  son  or  daughter, 
I  am  sure  I'd  neber  rise. 

Tom's  scard  Dick  will  get  er  ofis ; 

Deck  skeed  Ilerry  'ill  get  er  prise ; 
'N  dat  why  we  can't  rize  faster : 

We've  got  ourselves  to  organize. 


50 
THE  GIRL  AND  THE  BIRDS. 


A  little  girl,  with  tender  hands, 
Went  with  the  birds  to  play ; 

The  little  birds,  with  golden  wings, 
So  swiftly  flew  away. 

"  Pray  leave  me  not,  oh  little  birds ; 

Oh  stay  with  me,  I  pray ; 
I  did  not  mean  to  do  you  harm. 
With  you  I  came  to  play." 

The  little  birds  sailed  on  the  air, 
Would  not  the  calling  heed ; 

But  gave  a  flutter  of  their  wings, 
As  to  increase  their  speed. 

The  earth,  in  wheeling  on  her  course, 

Giving  a  mighty  hum, 
Said,  "Do  not  cry,  my  little  one; 

To  earth  they  soon  will  come. 

"  Before  my  sceptre  all  must  bend — 

The  high,  the  low,  the  good ; 
I  keep  with  me  the  great  storehouse 
From  which  they  get  their  food." 


I] 


SUMMER  IS  GONE. 


The  summer's  gone  ; 

I  stand  in  ice  and  sleet. 
Where  art  thou  gone  ? 

Pray  tell — I  wish  to  seek. 

I  seek  the  woods, 

Where  once  an  arbor  green  ; 
Ah,  nothing  now — 

The  ice  and  woods  are  seen. 

The  place  I  sat, 

And  caught  the  summer  glow, 
I  see  'tis  now 

A  sheet  of  ice  and  snow. 


52 


THE  END  OF  DAY. 


The  day  her  dusty  journey's  run; 

The  laborers  fill  the  homeward  path ; 
The  world,  worn  out  by  toil  and  sun, 

In  dewy  mist  will  take  a  bath. 

The  birds  onto  their  nests  will  fly; 

The  crickets  to  the  hearthplace  creep; 
The  worldly  cares  are  laid  aside, 

And  man  will  take  ,'t  bath  in  sleep. 

The  wheat  that  bent  in  glowing  sun, 
When  nature  bathes  it,  will  arise ; 

The  withered  cornblades  will  unroll, 
And  all  things  new  will  greet  our  eyes. 


I'l 


THE  EVENING. 


The  sun  is  sinking  o'er  the  hills 
And  casting  gold  on  earth  ; 

The  children  in  the  harvest  fields 
Hail  it  with  joy  and  mirth. 

So  often  through  the  glowing  day 
Thej'  gazed  up  with  a  frown, 

And  wondered  in  their  little  hearts 
It  would  not  hasten  down. 

The  master  sees  the  fiery  ball 
Has  hid  its  rays  of  light ; 

lie  gives  the  signal,  as  to  say : 
"  Cease  toiling  for  the  night." 

The  little  children,  tired  and  worn 
From  toiling  all  the  day, 

They  hear  the  blessed  evening  bell- 
Skip  homeward  on  their  way. 


56 


AFRICA'S  CRY. 


From  the  land  of  Africa 

Comes  a  faint  cry : 
"Send  us  the  Gospel — 
To  save  ere  we  die." 

Dying  unconscious 

Of  a  heavenly  home 
We  know  not  the  Saviour. 

What  will  be  our  doom  ? 

Send  us  a  teacher 

Who  will  show  us  the  way. 
We  know  not  the  law — 

How  can  we  obey  ? 

Come  to  us  quickly, 

We  have  thrown  wide  the  gate ; 
Millions  of  souls 

Do  anxiously  wait. 


57 


THE  STARS. 


Tell  me,  oh  star,  art  thou  a  jewel 
Shining  in  the  sky  so  bright  ? 

Or  art  thou  a  little  lantern 

Hung  from  heaven  to  give  us  light  ? 

Often  when  I  am  alone, 

And  think  no  one  is  nigh, 
I  glance  into  the  heavens 

And  catch  your  little  eye. 

I  do  not  know  your  mission ; 

That  none  doth  understand ; 
But  I  know  if  thou  could'st  do  so 

Thou  would'st  tell  me  tales  of  man. 

Some  men  are  so  foolish 

There's  no  eye  but  their  own, 

And  steal  out  in  the  darkness 

Where  their  deeds  of  vice  are  sown. 


58 


Oh  star,  I  wish  thou  had'st  a  voice 
To  reach  to  the  uttermost  dell ; 

Where  men  would  commit  their  evils, 
Would  whisper  and  say:  "I'll  tell." 

Oh,  if  thou  could  only  talk, 
Many  wonders  thou  would'st  tell ; 
'Thou  that  saw  within  the  walk, 
The  trap  in  which  the  purest  fell. 
All  mankind  feel  quite  free, 
When  they  think  no  one  can  see ; 
And  cease  to  care  how  slack  they  walk — 
•Oh,  if  thou  could  only  talk ! 
If  thou  that  shed  the  faintest  beam, 
•Could  only  tell  what  thou  hast  seen 
It  would  be  enough. 


NOTHING  TO  DO. 


The  fields  are  white ; 

The  laborers  are  few  : 
Yet  say  the  idle : 

There's  nothing  to  do. 

Jails  are  crowded ; 

In  Sunday-schools  few; 
We  still  complain: 

There's  nothing  to  do. 

Drunkards  are  dying— 
Your  sons,  it  is  true ; 

Mothers'  arms  folded 
With  nothing  to  do. 

Heathen  are  dying; 

Their  blood  falls  on  you; 
How  can  you  people 

Find  nothing  to  do  ? 


60 


THE  SIGNS  OF  DEATH. 


When  yer  hur  at  nite  de  ole  milch  cow  a-Iowin' 
'JST  houn  dogs  howling  out  der  monful  soun, 

I  tel  yer  now  yer  better  git  er  redy, 

Dey's  gwinter  plant  sum  boudy  in  de  groun. 

Yer  neanter  bleve  in  sines,  not  les  yer  wanter, 
But  sum  deas  morns  u'll  wake  up  in  suprize ; 

'N  if  dea  kum  er  houlin  whur  I'm  sleepin, 
I'll  tel  yer  now  dis  darkey's  gwiner  rize. 

'N  ef  der's  eny  doubts  ob  bein  redy, 

Down  on  mi  knees  I'm  gwiner  make  it  strate ; 
'JST  you  kin  laf  'n  sa  dis  darkey's  skeery, 

I'm  luck  er  rabbit  ka  trus  no  mistake. 

It  may  not  be  fur  me  de  dogs  er  howlin, 

But  whin  da  howl  mi  pas  I'm  gwinter  sweep  ; 

'N  I  eant  gwine  ter  bed  no  more  dat  ebenin, 
Fur  def  sha  kum  'n  find  dis  pussun  sleep. 


"  When  yer  heer  at  nite  de  ole  milch  cow  alovvin, 
'N  houn  dogs  howling  out  der  monful  soun." 


63 

Ders  lots  ob  lurned  people  talkin  bully, 
1N  sain  dere  ain't  nufin  in  de  sine; 

But  ef  dey  kum  ur  roun  me  wid  der  lunin, 
I'm  gester  gwiner  teluin  dey  er  lyin. 

I'se  got  no  time  ter  lisin  to  dor  lexrin, 
Fur  da  is  jes  tryin  ter  sho  of  smart ; 

Der  eant  no  body  don't  keer  how  das  lurned 
Dat's  got  de  sines  al  wiped  clur  from  der  hart. 

Fur  lunin  neber  takes  fum  man  his  habits- 
It  only  smeers  dem  ober  wid  er  stain ; 

'N  kase  he's  lunid  he  is  not  er  angel, 
Dem  sem  ole  trates  is  lurkin  stell  widin. 


64 


SATAN. 


Satan's  a  robber ; 

He  works  day  and  night ; 
Go  where  you  may 

He's  always  in  sight. 

Go  to  your  closet 

And  kneel  down  in  prayer ; 
You  need  not  be  frightened, 

For  satan's  not  there. 

He  lurks  around  poverty ; 

He  lurks  around  gold ; 
He's  always  on  duty 

Seeking  a  soul. 


LIFE'S  ROAD. 


With  joy  I  plod  life's  weary  road  ; 
Sometimes  I'm  free,  then  with  a  load ; 
The  cares  I  gather  through  the  day, 
At  night  my  banjo  'ill  drive  away. 

If  life  comes  sweet,  I'll  only  smile, 

As  it  will  please  me  well ; 
If  bitter,  though  I'll  only  frown, 

And  you  can  never  tell. 

I  never  grieve  o'er  past  mistakes, 
Made  through  the  previous  day  ; 

I  will  from  them  a  lesson  take, 
And  plod  along  life's  way. 

Sometimes  you  see  me  going  on, 
And  judge  I'm  doing  well ; 

The  cares  that's  moving  in  my  heart 
No  tongue  can  ever  tell. 


66 


CLASSES. 


The  world's  divided  in  many  classes, 
And  all  deny  being  of  the  masses. 
Complex  is  life,  whom  to  believe 
When  all  the  world  seeks  to  deceive? 


Society  is  false,  I  find  ; 
I  see  how  frivolous  is  the  line. 
The  men  with  honor,  much  estate, 
Compose  the  class  we  all  call  great. 

One  class  is  made  by  color  line, 
And  one  by  those  who  dress  fine ; 
The  other's  made  by  family  tree — 
Pretending  all ;  striving  to  be. 


.17 


FORTUNE'S  WHEEL. 


The  wheel  is  daily  turned, 

.  And  daily  comes  the  prize  ; 

But  yet  somehow  they  never  call  my  name. 

I've  labored  many  years — 

The  thing  that  causes  tears  ; 

Always  I  have  returned  just  as  I  came. 

Ofttimes  it  seems  too  hard  ; 

I  think  no  more  to  try ; 

It  seems  as  though  there  is  no  prize  for  me. 

A  spark  of  hope  will  blaze, 

And  courage  it  will  raise ; 

Again  among  the  throng  I  now  will  be. 

Always  won't  be  this  way  ; 

Ah,  soon  will  come  my  day. 

The  wheel  of  fortune  will  be  justly  turned  ; 

Just  as  it  makes  its  round 

My  name  will  then  be  found  ; 

And  then  I'll  get  the  prize  for  which  I  yearned. 


63 


SHOW  YOUR  LOVE. 


Fray,  if  you  love  me  show  it  now ; 

Wait  not  until  I've  passed  away, 
And  lying  cold  in  yonder  grave, 

I  cannot  hear  then  what  you  say. 

And  if  a  wreath  await  my  death, 

Pray  one  green  leaf  now  to  me  give ; 

All  thy  sweet  sayings — say  them  now, 
Pray  let  me  hear  them  while  I  live. 

Ah,  if  the  half  had  been  made  known, 
That  which  was  said  on  burial  day, 

The  many  fainted  would  have  risen, 
And  bounded  upward  on  life's  way. 


09 

MKMORY  OF  THE  OLD  TIME. 


When  bygone  days  come  rushing  to  my  memory, 
Those  happy  days  I  spent  when  but  a  boy, 

It  brings  to  me  a  picture  tinged  with  sadness; 
And  yet,  somehow  my  heart  is  filed  with  joy. 

I  view  myself  now  strolling  through  the  cornfield, 
And  gazing  on  the  silks  and  tassels  gray ; 

And  through  the  woodlands,  'till  I'd  reach  the 

brooklet, 
For  minnows  there  I'd  fish  'till  close  of  day. 

Those  good  old  days  are  gone,  and  years  of  sadness 
Have  wrapped  themselves  around  that  happy  lad; 

No  more  at  day  to  wander  through  the  woodlands, 
No  more  at  night  around  my  dear  old  dad. 

I  remember  well  how  in  the  early  springtime 
The  meadow  and  the  orchard  were  in  bloom, 

How  John  and  I'd  go  bounding  o'er  the  hillside 
At  ev'n  when  time  to  bring  the  cattle  home. 


70 

I  speak  of  John,  but  All !  he  too  has  left  me, 
His  body's  lying  mouldering  in  the  clay ; 

I  gaze  around  to  see  my  boyhood  comrades, 
They,  like  my  youth,  from  me  have  passed  away. 

My  dear  old  friends  have  gone,  and  years  of  sadness 
Have  wrapped  themselves  around  that  happy  lad; 

No  more  at  day  to  wander  with  my  comrades. 
No  more  at  night  around  my  dear  old  dad. 


71 

DON'T  LAUGII,  BOYS. 


A  colored,  gray-haired,  feeble  man, 
Came  tottering  down  the  street, 

Was  tackled  by  some  happy  youths 
That  he  by  chance  did  meet. 

His  hands  were  trembling  on  his  cane, 

He  raised  his  hoary  head; 
With  the.n  he  was  not  angry, 

With  trembling  voice  he  said  : 

"  Don't  laugh,  my  boys,  as  this  old  form, 

I  think  I'm  doing  well ; 
What  I  went  through  in  slavery 
No  tongue  can  ever  tell. 

"  I  had  no  chance  when  I  was  young, 

I  was  with  master  then  ; 
But  now  my  boys  your  minds  are  free, 
Make  out  of  yourselves  men. 

"  And  when  you  meet  an  aged  man, 

Struggling  along  as  I, 
Don't  trouble  him,  for  he  loves  you ; 
Politely  pnss  him  by." 


MY   SONG. 


Why  was  I  born  if  this  ends  all, 

All  that  I'll  ever  be ; 
To  feel  a  spirit  that's  divine, 

No  chance  to  let  it  free. 

Unfortunate  seems  now  my  port, 

Drifting  on  poverty's  sea; 
The  chains  of  need  have  bound  me  fast, 

Oh  !  would  that  I  was  free. 

I'm  struggling  daily  for  the  shore, 

The  sea  is  vast  and  wide  ; 
And  when  I  stop  to  sing  my  lays, 

I'm  threatened  by  the  tide. 

But  if  these  rugged  lays  I've  sung, 
Should  cause  some  heart  to  move, 

And  bring  to  me  freedom 
How  could  I  then  but  love ! 

Accept  these  lays  to  you  I  bring, 

A  token  of  my  art ; 
Jangling  though  they  seem  to  be 

Remember  'tis  a  start. 


73 

OUR  PIC-NIC. 


In  fullest  joy  and  richest  pleasure, 
Beneath  the  trees,  upon  the  grass; 

With  tables  spread  upon  the  ground, 
A  day  with  Paen  was  swiftly  passed.. 

A  spring  we  found  close  by  a  brook, 
Twas  gushing  water  fresh  and  cold  ; 

We  must  have  found  what  'Leon  saw, 
A  bairn  for  old  age  in  a  pool. 

As  lambs  the  children  romped  the  woods,. 

The  worldly  cares  were  chased  away  ; 
Their  voices  like  the  nymphs  ringing, 

The  aged  felt  as  youths  to-day. 

We  found  the  arbor  clai  k  with  shade, 
And  joy  threw  wide  her  rustic  door;. 

We  entered  in  with  hail  of  song, 
We  all  forgot  that  we  were  poor. 

We  turned  around,  lingering,  looked, 
When  going  home  at  close  of  day ; 

And  saw  Paen  standing  in  the  door, 
Crying  and  beckoning  us  to  stav. 


74 
EDITH. 


'Twas  in  a  park  beneath  a  tree, 

Upon  a  rustic  seat ; 
The  evenings  when  the  sun  was  low, 

Edith  and  I  would  meet. 

'Twas  on  this  seat,  three  years  ago, 

I  gently  took  her  hand ; 
And  gazed  into  her  smiling  face, 

No  sweeter  in  the  land. 

But  now  she's  dead  and  passed  away, 

And  I  from  labor  stroll ; 
I  find  no  one  to  meet  me  there, 

I  have  no  hand  to  hold. 

But  some  sweet  day  when  work  is  done, 

I'll  seek  another  place  ; 
Where  I'll  again  take  Edith's  hand, 

And  see  her  smiling  face. 

Eoll  'round  sweet  clays  and  bear  me  up, 

Unto  my  home  above  ; 
Where  I'll  again  see  Edith's  face, 

And  rest  with  her  my  love. 


ODE  TO  LOVE. 


Love!  0  passion!  0  woman! 

Return  what  thou  hast  stole: 
Ambition,  heart,  and  treasure, 

O  free  the  weary  soul. 
Loose  thy  suffering  victim  : 

Unbar  the  prison  door ; 
Call  them  back  that  weary, 

Let  them  live  once  more. 
Why  mock  your  helpless  victim  ? 

Loose  your  galling  chain  : 
To  many  thou  givest  pleasure, 

To  others  thou  givest  pain. 
Thv  hypnotizing  power 

Over  many  holds  a  sway : 
To  him  it  seems  a  magnet, 

It  draws  his  soul  away. 
Many  thou  found  were  happy. 

In  society  held  a  place ; 
Thou  hypnotized  and  led  them 

To  shame  and  sad  disgrace. 


76 


HEROD'S  SLAUGHTER  OF  THE  BABES. 


It  was  a  decree  of  Herod, 
Caused  mothers  to  run  wild ; 

He  sent  soldiers  from  his  palace 
To  kill  each  young  male  child. 

To  kill  the  babe,  the  mother's  hope : 
To  mothers  it  didn't  seem  right ; 

The  mothers  with  their  babies 
For  refuge  took  their  flight. 

One  mother  fled  for  refuge 
To  a  cave  within  the  ground ; 

To  all  it  was  suspicious ; 
By  a  soldier  it  was  found. 

Looking  in  at  the  open  door, 

As  a  bird  upon  its  nest, 
He  saw  a  frightened  mother 

With  a  babe  pressed  to  her  breast. 


77 


41  What  seek  ye?  "  cried  the  mother, 
With  a  voice  both  faint  and  wild ; 

"  I  am  on  a  duty  from  Herod 

To  kill  each  young  male  child !  " 

4i  Oh !  spare  my  child  !  "  cried  the  mother ; 

"  I  pray  thee  let  it  live ; 
If  life's  what  thou  seek'st, 
Take  mine ;  I'll  freely  give  !  " 

"  It's  not  your's ;  it's  the  babe's ; 

My  duty  I  must  perform." 
lie  reaches  his  hand  toward  her 
To  take  it  from  her  arm. 

Back  to  the  corner  she  fled ; 

lie  rushed  like  a  wild  bear ; 
As  a  wolf  on  a  lamb,  he  seized 

And  from  her  bosom  tore. 

The  mother,  to  save  her  babe. 
Bounds  like  a  flying  dart. 

Too  late!  he  unsheathed  his  blade 
And  drives  it  through  its  he.irt. 


78 


The  mother,  viewing  the  horrible  scene, 
Sinks  breathless  upon  the  floor ; 

He  throws  the  babe  by  her  side 
Steps  from  the  earthen  door. 

The  mother,  dying  upon  the  ground, 
Once  from  death  did  awake ; 

Saw  her  struggling  baby  lying 
With  arms  outstretched  to  take. 


Quick  as  lightning  her  babe  she  grasped, 
Her  lips  pressed  to  its  wound  ; 

They  both  gave  up  life's  precious  breath, 
Sank  dead  upon  the  ground. 

A  spirit  went  wafting  through  the  sky 
With  a  babe  upon  its  breast ; 

Within  the  cave  their  corpses  are  seen, 
Their  souls  are  in  heav'n  at  rest. 


AMBITION. 

The  world  is  a  race-course ; 
Man  is  a  charioteer; 
In  him  there  is  a  soul ; 
Ambition  is  the  steed 
By  which  he  is  drawn, 
Over  which  he  seems  to  have 
No  control. 

Each  day  we  speed  on  the  race, 
Ambition  still  our  steed, 
Regardless  of  the  soul 
And  heaven  the  goal ; 
Toward  riches  and  honor 
We  speed. 

Ambition,  thou  most  fiery  steed, 
Remember  thou  drawest  a  soul ; 

For  riches  and  honor  there  is  no  prize, 
Heaven  is  the  only  goal. 

Be  mindful  thou,  O  charioteer ! 

Ride  careful,  keep  your  place ; 
Let  riches  nor  honor  tempt  thee 

And  you  will  gain  the  race. 


80 
A.  VIEW  OF  CHILDHOOD. 


^L  love  to  think  what  joy  I  had, 
When  I  was  a  boy,  a  playful  lad ; 
.1  did  not  know  the  joy  'twas  then, 
I  had  not  felt  this  world  of  sin. 

No  cares  as  now  upon  my  mind, 
So  happy,  playful,  all  the  time ; 
' Think  of  the  many  happy  hours, 
I  roamed  the  woods  in  search  of  flowers. 

And  how  I'd.  bound  around  at  night, 
'To  catch  the  bugs  that  flashed  a  light ; 
And  mornings  when  the  sun  would  rise, 
I'd  start  to  chase  the  butterflies. 

It  seems  I'm  creeping  to  a  flower, 
A  butterfly  has  let  to  sip ; 
It  seems  I  almost  have  him  now, 
^But  from  my  fingers  he  doth  slip. 

Away  he  seeks  another  flower, 
I  stand  and  gaze  to  see  him  light ; 
I  seem  to  creep  again  to  catch, 
He  sees  me  though  and  takes  a  flight. 


si 


And  as  I  cbase,  from  llower  to  flower, 
So  many  others  meet  my  eye ; 
And  some  that  do  not  seem  so  shy, 
To  catch  the  others  I  will  try. 

It  seems  I  see  one  on  a  flower, 
His  head  deep  in  the  blossom  fold ; 
And  now  it  seems  I  have  him  fast, 
And  by  his  silkv  wings  I  hold. 


82 


REASON,  SAD  WORLD. 


Ye  proud  and  merry  world, 

Reason  with  me  I  pray ; 
Why  weary  for  the  things 

That  soon  shall  pass  away  ? 
Oh  think  so  soon  thou'll  die, 

On  earth  will  be  no  more ; 
What  value  then  will  be 

The  wealth  you  have  in  store? 
Dust  thou  believe  in  God 

Of  whom  so  much  thou'st  heard  ? 
If  so,  why  not  be  calm  ? 

Pray  take  him  at  His  word. 
Thou  knowest  life  and  all 

The  wealth  of  sea  and  land  ; 
And  all  thou  soul  can  wish 

He  hold'st  in  His  hand. 
Then  seek  ye  for  true  life, 

And  all  that  thou  doth  need, 
Beseech  it  of  our  God, 

And  cease  to  man  to  plead  ; 


83 

His  promises  are  true, 

Yea,  more  than  we  have  heard, 
And  this  thou  too  would'st  see, 

Should  we  but  trust  His  word. 
Let  us  first  Heaven  seek  ; 

Of  all,  this  prize  is  best, 
And  God  has  in  His  word 

So  promised  all  the  rest. 
Sad  world  repining  cease, 

Oh  warriors,  cease  jour  strife  ; 
Strive  not  for  wealth  nor  praise, 

But  seek  eternal  life. 


84 
THE  WELTHY  NIGAII. 


One  day  along  I'se  strolern, 

Mi  circumstances  scolin ; 

I  saw  a  roll  ob  money  in  de  san, 

At  fust  de  money  bline  me, 

Till  Thurd  a  voice  behind  me, 

Den  wid  de  money  to  mi  home  I  ran. 

Dis  black  nigah  am  welthy,  boys,  at  last ; 
U  otter  see  de  razein  ob  de  hat  whin  I  pass; 
Dis  black  nigar  dont  seem  so  funny, 
Since  deys  found  he's  got  de  money, 
'N  dem  same  old  nigahs  am  glad  now  ter  call  me 
boss. 

Der  wus  sum  yaller  darkies  in  de  place  whur  I  wus 

born, 

Da  uster  say  Tse  smutty  'n  how  da  uster  scorn ; 
Da  uster  hab  der  social  da  uster  hab  der  teas, 
Da  uster  hab  der  walkins  for  de  cake ; 
But  me  da  allus  slighted, 
Ter  none  I  was  envited, 
Da  treated  me  as  do  I  wus  a  snake. 


4"N  dem  same  old  nigahs  am  glad  now  ter  call  me  boss.' 


87 

Dis  black  nigah  am  weltliy,  boys,  at  last; 
U  otter  see  clem  jailer  nigabs  bowin  whin  I  pass  ; 
Dis  black  nigab  dont  seem  so  funny, 
Since  cleys  found  ise  got  de  money, 
'N  dem  same  old  nigabs  am  glad  now  ter  call  me 
boss. 


I  had  er  brudder  and  sistah  in  de  place  whur  I  wus 

born, 

'N  bof  ob  dem  wus  yallar  des  blackun  uster  scorn; 
Da  hurd  clat  I'd  returned  wid  money  fur  ter  burn, 
Da  bof  on  me  did  cast  a  wishful  eye, 
Uv  cose  da  uster  scorn  me, 
But  now  da  lub  ter  own  me, 
Da  cry,  der  go  mi  brudder !  ez  I  go  by. 

Dis  black  nigah  am  welthy,  boys,  at  last ; 

U  otter  see  mi  brudder  an  mi  sister  grinnin  whin 

I  pass, 

Der  black  brudder  dont  seem  so  funny, 
Since  da's  found  he's  got  de  money, 
'N  dem  same  old  nigahs  am  glad  now  ter  call  me 

boss. 


Der  wus  sum  Irish  merchants  in  de  place  whur  I 

wus  born, 
'N  whin  I'd  pass  der  buelding  oh  how  dem  clirks 

wud  scorn  ; 

Dey  found  dat  I'd  returned  wid  money  fur  ter  burn, 
Da'd  ask  me  in  so  nicely  whin  I'd  pass, 
I  had  not  changed  mi  culler ; 
Da  heard  I  had  de  dollor, 
De  dollor  toes  de  line  to  any  class. 

Dis  black  nigah  am  welthy,  boys,  at  last ; 
U  otter  hur  dem  merchants  call  ob  me  whin  I  pass, 
Dis  black  nigah  don't  seem  so  funny, 
Since  deys  found  he's  got  de  money, 
'N  dem  same  old  nigahs  am  glad  now  to  call  me 
boss. 


THE  BOYS'  OPPORTUNITY. 


Hail  happy  youths,  now  in  your  prime, 
Be  up,  awake,  waste  not  your  time; 
For  fast  is  coming  on  the  day, 
You'll  wish  the  time  you  waste  away. 

So  well  I  know  you  are  a  boy, 
I  do  not  care  to  stop  your  joy  ; 
But  very  soon  you'll  be  a  man, 
And  for  your  self  you'll  have  to  plan. 

These  wasted  days  and  foolish  cares, 
You'll  think  of  them  again  in  tears; 
And  when  misfortune  drives  you  mad, 
You'll  wish  the  time  you  once  have  had. 

No  matter  then  how  you  may  yearn, 
The  time  once  spent  will  not  return  ; 
But  now  my  boys  your  minds  are  free, 
Think  of  the  man  you  hope  to  be. 

Pray  study  hard,  your  pennies  save, 
Always  be  truthful  ever  brave ; 
And  when  a  man  you'll  come  to  be, 
You'll  think  of  what  was  said  by  me. 


NO  USE  IN  SIGNS." 


Tain't  no  usen  being  skar'd  of  congers, 
E'n  lettin  black  cats  turn  ur  back ; 

Jest  go'n  er  bout  yuh  bisnes, 

An  let  the  congers  hav  yer  track. 

Frida'  aint  no  wus  dan  Monday, 

Ez  fur  ez  luck  is  consern  ; 
Ef  yuh  han  ich,  don't  spit  in  it : 

Wont  git  nusin  but  what's  u'rn. 

Ef  yuh  nose  ich,  no  'un  comin, 

Ef  yuh  foot  ich,  yer  goin  no  wher ; 

U'can  let  wurms  crall  al'over  you 
Den  you  '11  get  nuthin  new  to  ware. 

N  cos  you  hav  a  little  lernin 
Don't  sit  in  try  ter  figer  rich  ; 

Jes  git  yer  spade  an  shuvel 
An  go  trotin'  long  toder  ditch. 


Ul 


IV  in  yer  feel  a  little  happy 

Don't  think  of  al  de  sorros  yer  had ; 
•Cos  yer  eye  is  trembling  a  little 

Dats  no  sine  yer  goin  ter  get  mad. 

Cos  de  middle  toe  iz  longer  den  de  big  on, 

Don't  yer  think  gwine  ter  rule ; 

'  N  kase  my  hair  gro'  on  my  forehead, 

Yer  neanter  take  me  fur  a  fool. 

I  am  gointer  sing  sum  in  der  monin, 
See  if  de  haks  catch  me  before  night ; 

Ef  da  do  don't  yer  wury, 

Jest  say :  "  I  bet  day  had  ter  fite." 


92 

MEMORY  OF  FRANCES  WILLARD. 


Around  the  glowing  fireside  of  the  nation 

A  vacant  chair  no  one  can  ever  fill ; 
Death  came,  and  stole  from  it  a  temperance  mother, 

But  yet  in  heaven  she  lives  an  angel  still. 
To  all  she  seemed  a  pure,  unfolding  lily, 

On  which  no  eye  had  ever  found  a  stain ; 
She  stood  till  death,  the  surest  reaper, 

Came  to  gather  in  his  choicest  grain. 

Ah,  dearest  mother!  gone  thou  art, 
And  left  us  with  a  breaking  heart ; 
To  sweet  heaven  thou  art  conveyed. 
Show  us  the  star  that  thou  hast  made, 
That  thy  dear  friends  at  night  may  see 
The  silver  rays  that  gleam  from  thee. 

Upon  the  parlor  wall  of  our  nation 

There  hangs  a  picture  in  a  sacred  place ; 
She  was  a  tender  friend  unto  the  drunkard, 

And  all  admire  the  beauty  of  her  face ; 
It  is  the  picture  of  our  mother  Willard, 

A  mother  to  the  drunkard  and  to  all; 
And  she  was  gently  watching  o'er  the  fallen 

When  soft  she  heard  the  loving  Savior  call. 


Ah,  dearest  mother !  gone  thou  art, 
And  left  us  with  a  breaking  heart ; 
To  sweet  heaven  thou  art  conveyed. 
Show  us  the  star  that  thou  has  made, 
That  thy  dear  friends  at  night  may  see 
The  .silver  rays  that  gleam  from  thee. 

"Within  the  tender  heart  of  all  the  nation 

There  is  a  place  no  one  can  ever  fill ; 
A  place  for  one  who's  living  now  in  heaven ; 

For  her  the  lamp  of  love  is  burning  still. 
From  the  Union  there  is  gone  a  loving  mother ; 

For  her  our  hearts  in  sorrow  '11  ever  pine. 
Mav  love  and  peace  go  with  her  dear  old  comrades ; 

Slay  joy  pour  out  to  them  the  richest  wine. 

Ah,  dearest  mother!  gone  thou  art, 
And  left  us  with  a  breaking  heart ; 
To  sweet  heaven  thou  art  conveyed. 
Show  us  the  star  that  thou  hast  made, 
That  thy  dear  friends  at  night  may  see 
The  silvery  rays  that  gleam  from  thee. 


I'LL  ENTER  THE  SALOON  NO  MORE.. 


Daily  we  drop  in  the  treasure, 
But  it  never  reaches  its  height ; 

And  when  we  search  for  the  reason, 
We  find  it  Saturday  night. 

Then  we  find  them  there  in  multitudes,. 

Spending  in  various  ways ; 
I'll  invite  you  to  the  bar-room 

That  you  in  the  window  may  gaze. 

There  you'll  see  Samuel  Brown, 
Who  earns  a  dollar  per  day ; 

And  for  the  cursed  rum- cup 
He  is  giving  it  all  away. 

At  home  his  wife  and  children 
Have  earned  whatever  they  could r 

And  are  waiting  by  the  fire 

To  receive  their  Sunday's  food. 


His  wife  is  somewhat  frightened, 
The  clock  has  long  struck  ten ; 

She  lavs  aside  her  baby 
To  bring  her  Samuel  in. 

She  laid  aside  her  baby 

And  pursued  the  journey  once  more ; 
She  didn't  make  any  inquiries 

Till  she  reached  the  grocery  store. 

Then  she  asked  the  merchant 

If  he  had  seen  her  Sam. 
lie  said  :  "  He's  gone  to  the  bar-room 

To  get  his  Sunday's  dram." 

Then  to  the  saloon  she  hastened, 
Entered  in  at  the  open  door ; 

There  she  saw  her  husband 
Lying  drunk  upon  the  floor. 

By  his  side  she  sat  and  wept, 

"When  he  from  sleep  did  wake, 
And  heard  his  baby  crying 
As  tho'  its  heart  would  break. 

When  he  saw  them  weeping, 
He  rose  to  his  feet  and  swore, 

For  the  sake  of  wife  and  baby 

He  would  enter  the  saloon  no  more. 


96 

UNKER  ISREL. 


De  people  call  me  er  k  anger, 
Jes  kase  I  du  sum  tricks ; 

Jes,  kase  1'se  got  dis  lucky  black  bone. 
Kan't  gedder  rutes  fur  tea 
Widout  da  talk  ob  dat ; 

Da  say  I'se  got  er  ball  er  blue  loadstone. 

Do  kur  what  I  du  noble, 
No  diffens  how  it's  dun, 

Yer  nebber  hur  dem  prazin  ob  mi  brane  ; 
Lack  whin  I  merid  Anlyzer, 
Jest  kase  she's  got  sum  sence 

Day's  sayin  dat  I  got  hur  wid  sum  kerne. 

Let  sumtin  hapen  ter  nabors, 
Let  sum  ob  dem  git  sick, 

For  it  all  I  sul  got  ter  bear  de  blame ; 
Jes  kas  I'se  got  dis  bull -eye, 
An  'er  rabbit  foot  er  two, 

On  me  da  puts  mose  eberthing  dats  mean. 

Som  time  da  talk  so  scanlus 
It  gits  me  rite  upsot, 

JN  speshly  when  I  notis  whut  da  say, 
I  wanter  take  dis  cat  bone, 
An  eberthing  I  got, 

'N  let  de  people  see  me  throw'm  er  way. 


I  gedder  dem  tergedder, 
JN  place  dcm  in  er  pile ; 

I  gin  ter  think  erbout  de  needy  day : 
T  kno  whut  da  '11  du  fur  rne, 
\\  Lilt  mad  wid  rni  self 

'Bout  wurrin  ober  whut  de  people  say. 

Kase  when  I  see  dis  cat  bone, 
Dis  guffer  dat  I  got, 

Kan't  help  de  ters  fum  cumin  in  mi  ey ; 
Once  when  de  wurl  w's  gins  me, 
An  frens  had  turned  der  backs, 

Dis  loadstone  and  dis  bull's-eye  stood  rite  by. 

Jes  call  me  what  yer  wanter. 
Kan't  take  no  peck  on  me ; 

Ain't  shame  tu  own  de  things  dat  brot  me  thu ; 
Talk  'bout  yer  mudder's  techin, 
But  what  dese  dun  fur  me 

Is  much  ez  eny  mudder'li  eber  du. 

Wid  dis  bone  I'd  mark  de  path 
Dat  run  from  masscr's  do, 

An  ebber  mornin  he  would  hafter  cross 
De  golfer  in  mi  pocket ; 
I  dun  jes  lack  I  plesed  ; 

U'd  sene  me  u'der  tliot  I  wus  de  bos. 


98 


Ole  masser'd  cross  de  mark 
'N  den  he'd  gin  ter  smile ; 

Ter  talk  wid  me  ole  masser  seemed  rite  proud. 
I  made  de  wemin  lub  me, 
'N  long  as  I  wus  dar 

Ole  masser  nebber  bit  one  ob  de  croud. 


I  kep  him  do  fum  beatin 
Most  all  de  wemin  folks ; 

Sum  times  I'd  wurk  a  fue  tricks  fur  de  men ; 
Dey  cudent  git  me  fur  nufm ; 
I'd  nebber  move  er  pag, 

Fur  ebber  trick  da  had  ter  bring  er  tin. 

Sum  times  I'd  go  out  coutin, 
Kub  goffer  on  me  hands ; 

I'd  put  er  rabbit  foot  doun  in  mi  sho ; 
No  hound  on  urf  could  track'rn  ; 
Cud  make  de  wemin  lub, 

'N  when  I'd  meet  de  gurls  dis  way  I  do : 

Make  lack  I'se  glad  ter  see'm, 
'N  grab  hold  ob  der  han  ; 

Be  rubbin  goffer  on  dem  all  de  time ; 
No  use  in  scornin,  honey, 
'N  turnin  up  your  nose, 

Kas  if  I  want  yer  I  kan  make  yer  mine. 


ODE  TO  CONSCIENCE. 


Oh ;  gently  conscience  tbou  scourgest  well 
Would'st  thou  give  ease  if  I  should  tell, 
The  secret  crime  o'er  which  I  weep, 
Ev'en  though  unknown,  denies  me  sleep? 
Come  law,  and  punish,  let  me  rest, 
Pray  ease  the  guilty,  aching  breast  ; 
The  innocent,  pray,  set  him  free, 
And  take  the  convict,  I  am  he  ; 
No  punishment  can  law  import, 
Equal  the  guilty,  aching  heart. 


100 


TWO  SPIRITS. 


Two  spirits  are  warring  in  my  breast, 

Each  for  the  sway  ; 
And  each  of  me  has  made  request— 

Which  to  obey  ? 

Obey  the  one  that  seems  divine    • 

It  came  from  heav'n. 
The  other  from  this  heart  of  mine 

Must  now  be  driv'n. 


101 


FOR  THE  PRIVATE  SOLDIER. 


In  books  that  tell  the  warriors  glory, 
For  private  soldiers  write  a  line  ; 

Suppose  the  soldiers  had  been  cowards, 
How  could  the  captain've  been  sublime. 


true  commanders  should  be  honored, 
For  without  them  their's  nothing  done  ; 
But  where  the  soldiers  are  unwilling, 
I've  never  seen  a  victory  won. 

Ye  men  of  wealth  and  highest  honor. 

And  all  who  hold  an  honored  sphere  ; 
Gaze  not  upon  your  brawny  arm, 

Think  of  the  meek  who  put  you  there. 


102 


MY  LONELY  HOMESTEAD. 


My  dear  old  home's  not  like  it  used  to  be, 

Since  my  dear  old  mother  died ; 

Sunshine  from  it  has  passed  away, 

The  old  cot  seems  so  lonely, 

I  can  no  more  reside, 

The  dear  old  form  is  resting  'neath  the  clay. 


The  voice  is  hushed  that  I  used  to  hear, 
There  is  no  one  a  sitting  in  the  old  arm  chair, 
My  heart  is  filled  with  sadness ;  it  is  wrapped  in 

gloom, 

I  cannot  bear  to  enter  in  her  dear  old  room  ; 
Her  Bible  lying  open  on  a  table  near , 
.And  by  it  lies  the  glasses  that  she  used  to  wear ; 
.She  just  had  finished  reading,  when  she  fell  asleep, 
Where  Jesus  said  to  Simon,  "  love  me,  feed  my 

sheep." 


10:5 

S«  •  well  do  I  remember  late  at  eve, 

When  from  labor  I'd  return  ; 

I'd  hear  the  dear  one  singing  as  I  neared, 

And  when  her  room  I'd  enter, 

The  lamp  of  love  would  burn, 

A  paradise  to  me  my  home  appeared. 

There's  a  half  finished  stocking  she'd  began  for  me 
And  all  her  knitting  needles  where  they  used  to  be  ; 
The  spinning  wheel  is  standing  where  it  stood  for 

years, 

A  spinning  out  the  cotton,  humming  out  her  cares. 
Upon  the  wall's  her  picture,  solemn,  sweet,  not 

stern, 

It  seems  to  gaze  upon  me  every  way  I  turn  ; 
The  kind  and  loving  Savior  knoweth  best, 
Hath  freed  her  from  labor,  called  her  home  to  rest. 


104 


AN  APPEAL. 


An  old  man  living  near  his  master, 

Ever  since  he  was  made  free  ; 
He  saw  in  him  an  evil  spirit, 

A  spirit  that  should  never  be. 

The  old  man's  heart  seemed  to  be  breaking, 
For  he  had  seen  it  several  years, 

It  seemed  he  could  not  bear  it  longer, 

He  speaks  with  eyes  half  filled  with  tears 

"  Pray  tell  me,  masser,  why  yer  scorn  me, 

Sa  is  it  simply  'cos  I'm  free  ? 
Yer  know  ise  nebber  try  ed*  ter  horm  yer, 
Always  so  kind  ise  tried  ter  be. 

"  I'm  sem  as  I  wus  when  yer  owned  me, 

What  e'n  yer  ask  I  tried  ter  do ; 
Pray  is  it  sumtin  I  hab  done  ? 
Un  treat  me  like  Ise  one  ob  yo. 

"  De  truf  Ise  glad  Ise  got  my  freedom — 

Not  simply  do  ter  'scape  yer  rod — 
Ise  glad  ob  it  down  in  mi  boosom, 
Dis  lub  ob  freedom  come  frum  God. 


106 


"  De  truf  I  know,  I'm  little  ignorant, 

But  now  I  make  er  urnis  plee ; 
What  if  u'd  been  in  mi  condition, 
How  would  yer  do  if  u  wus  me? 


"  Now  dis,  oh  masser,  I  pray  do  tell  me, 

I'le  do  az  'u  would  now  if  I  can  ; 
Fur  what  I  do  is  not  ter  spite  yer, 
I'm  simply  tryin'  ter  be  a  man. 


'U  know  Ise  proven  miself  harmless, 
I  would  not  horn  yer  when  I  could  ; 

For  when  yer  left  yer  homestid  wid  me, 
Did  I  not  prove  mi  self  as  good  ? 


"  Jist  think  when  yer  was  off  in  battle, 
Fiteing  fur  what  yer  thot  wus  rite  ; 
Think  how  I  toiled,  and  fed  yer  familv. 
'N  how  I  kept  dem  safe  at  nite. 


"  Fitein  ter  keep  me  frum  mi  freedom — 

'N  dat  yer  noed  I  node  full  well — 
In  all  ob  dat  wus  I  not  faithful? 
If  dis  aint  so  I  pray  de  tell. 


106 


Pray  tell  me  when  the  war  was  ober, 
Sa,  what  did  mi  ole  mistis  say  ; 

'N  did  her  say  I  tried  ter  horn  her, 
'N  did  I  e're  fuse  ter  obey  ? 


-"  Den  won't  yer  family  fur  purtection, 

Den  left  as  young  lambs  by  mi  side ; 
'N  'fore  I'd  let  de  hole  wif  horn  dem, 
Masser,  yer  now,  I  would  hab  died. 


I  want  yer  think  er  bout  de  madder, 
'IT  look  de  case  rite  thro'  and  thro' ; 

'N"  see  de  reason  'u  'unt  treat  me, 
De  same  as  do  Ise  one  ob  yo. 


I  want  ter  stay  on  dis  farm  wid  yer, 
My  arm  dis  great  big  fiel'  did  clar, 

'N  more  dan  dat  hur's  mi  affection, 
My  Ma  and  Pa  is  burred  hur. 


•"  I  'unt  do  less  we  can  in  union, 

I  lub  ter  lib  whur  der  is  love, 
I  won't  stand  dis  hur  way  much  longer, 
I  'speck  its  best  dat  I  should  move." 


Ki7 


OUR  FATHERS'  ERRORS. 


Why  scorn  the  wrong  our  fathers  did? 
Of  their  mistakes  so  much  is  said; 
To  scorn  these  men  is  no  way  to  do, 
Their  faults  have  been  much  aid  to  you. 

We  see  the  man  that  took  sin's  path, 
We  find  he  met  the  cruel  wrath ; 
And  then  we  know  the  path  to  take, 
See  how  we  gain  by  his  mistake. 

Then  when  we  read  the  Holy  Book, 
Arid  see  the  path  Sapphira  took, 
We  learn  the  path  to  take  or  shun, 
From  those  who  lost,  and  those  who  won. 

Why  should  we  read  the  past  to  day 
If  not  that  we  may  learn  the  way ; 
And  when  I  read  of  the  early  gloom, 
I'm  glad  I  was  not  born  so  soon. 

Then  when  one  falls  before  your  eye, 
Lend  him  your  hand,  help  him  to  rise; 
His  falling  may  a  warning  be, 
Suppose  it  had  been  made  of  thee ! 


108 


VIRTUE   ALONE   CAN    MAKE  GREAT 
MEN. 

In  reading  books  from  Adam's  time, 
And  studying  lives  we  call  sublime, 
I  see  so  many  stained  with  sin — 
Virtue  alone  can  make  great  men. 

I  find  so  many  brilliant  lights 
To-day  have  vanished  from  our  sight, 
The  cause,  I  find,  came  out  of  sin — 
Virtue  alone  can  make  great  men. 

I  knew  a  man  whom  no  one  feared, 
A  radiant  sun  his  light  appeared ; 
I  find  the  place  by  him  once  owned 
Is  darker  now  for  having  shone. 

Then  when  I  see  the  vice  he  did, 
And  finding  it  could  not  be  hid, 
The  word  I  find  is  fixed  and  sealed, 
The  covered  sins  shall  be  revealed. 

My  son,  I  charge  thee  from  this  day 
The  path  of  virtue  is  the  way ; 
Piay  keep  her  path,  shun  that  of  sin — 
Virtue  alone  can  make  great  men. 


10',) 


TO  HER  THAT  WEEPS. 


Oh,  beloved  wife  of  the  dear  departed, 

To  thee  I  sing:  be  not  brok'n  hearted; 

The  God  that  called  thy  loved  one  from  thy  side 

Hath  sent  an  angel  o'er  thy  path  to  guide. 

I  know  it's  hard  to  give  up  one  so  dear, 
To  whom  was  trusted  all  thy  love  and  care, 
But  death,  my  friend,  is  the  common  lot  of  all, 
And  all  must  answer  freely  to  the  call. 

Ah,  weep  no  more,  thy  loved  one  is  at  rest- 
Expel  the  sorrow  from  thy  aching  breast ; 
Pray  murmur  not,  it  is  our  Father's  will 
And  He  in  love  and  mercy  '11  keep  thee  still. 

Go  forth,  oh  song,  in  strains  both  loud  and  clear, 
And  soothe  her  aching  heart,  dry  every  tear; 
And  with  thy  cloak  of  love  securely  fold, 
Then  pray  that  God  her  from  all  danger  '11  hold. 


110 


THE  HEATHEN  LAND. 


Across  the  sea  's  a  heathen  land, 
Pray  hasten  friends  and  lend  a  hand  ; 
Pray  go  as  fast  as  feet  can  plod, 
And  tell  them  of  a  risen  God. 

May  love  for  home  stay  thee  no  more  ; 
The  gospel  spread  from  shore  to  shore, 
Till  ignorance  from  them  will  flee, 
Until  the  world  can  say  I'm  free. 

Move  on,  my  friends,  why  stand  you  herer 
The  Saviour  lives,  what  need  you  fear; 
Go  preach  My  word  tell  them  of  Me, 
The  Saviour  sayeth,  I'm  with  thee. 


Ill 


BLAME  NOT  THE  POET. 


Blame  uot  the  poet  who  daily  seeks  the  woods ; 

Call  him  not  idle,  thy  verdict  may  be  wrong, 
For  there  he  meets  with  nature  face  to  face, 

He  hears  her  voice,  to  him  it's  song. 


112 


TO  W.  W.  BROWNE. 

Pray,  listen  brethren,  while  I  speak, 
I  speak  of  loving  father  Browne; 

In  vain  another  you  may  seek, 
Yet  not  another  can  be  found. 

No,  not  on  this  wide  circled  earth 

Has  such  man  received  his  birth. 

A  tender  father  loved  by  all ; 

Oh,  how  we  miss  his  loving  voice; 
Though  for  his  death  our  tears  do  fall 

Still  in  his  work  we  do  rejoice, 
Because  it  was  so  kind  and  free, 
A  blessing  unto  you  and  me. 

A  father  whom  our  God  did  love, 

And  when  He  saw  his  work  was  done 

He  called  him  to  His  home  above, 
To  wear  the  great  crown  he  had  won. 

Even  though  He  called  him  from  our  sight, 

Still  we  behold  his  brilliant  light. 


113 

Think  how  he  suffered,  how  he  toiled, 
And  how  the  sweat  ran  from  his  face, 

So  hard  he  sought  and  prayed  lor  wisdom, 
That  he  might  aid  and  lift  his  race, 

To  teach  them  of  a  brother's  care, 

A  brother's  burden  how  to  share. 

Where're  he  heard  the  sick  man  groan, 
The  widow,  orphans,  cry  for  bread, 

lie  went  with  helping  hands  to  loan, 
He  said  these  people  must  be  fed. 

He  gave  his  life  for  those  distressed, 

Our  God  was  pleased,  his  hand  was  blessed, 

Farewell,  fond  soul  and  take  thy  rest, 
Thy  voice  on  earth  will  sound  no  more ; 

We  will  obey  thy  last  request, 

We'll  meet  thee  on  the  other  shore ; 

There  we  in  perfect  peace  will  dwell, 

Dear  father  Browne  farewell,  farewell. 


114 


MEMORY  OF  W.  W.  BROWNE. 


Dear  father  Browne,  the  great,  the  good, 

The  noble  leader  of  our  race  ; 
With  task  complete  his  spirit  fled 
To  he'ven  its  final  resting  place. 
And  there  in  peace  it  shall  remain, 
Securely  wrapped  from  care  and  pain  ; 
His  body  'neath  sweet  roses  sleeps, 
Around  his  grave  his  friends  do  weep. 


Weeping  for  one  so  dearly  loved, 
Too  soon  it  seems  we  had  to  part ; 

To  see  him  hid  beneath  the  clay, 
Sharp  sorrow  fills  the  aching  heart. 

It  seems  I  see  him  on  the  stand, 

Fain  I  could  hear  him  give  command ; 

And  with  his  outstretched,  loving  arm, 

Emploring  people  to  reform. 


115 


Think  of  the  great  work  he  has  done, 

Behold  the  great  reformer's  hand  ; 
Ten  thousand  marching  to  and  fro, 
To  seek,  to  help,  to  lend  a  hand. 
Thy  life  hast  not  been  spent  in  vain, 
Thy  deeds  are  monuments  of  fame  ; 
Thy  name  from  earth  shall  ne'er  depart, 
'Tis  'graved  with  kindness  on  the  heart. 

No  more  to  meet  us  hear  on  earth, 

The  noble  impulse  thou  hast  given  ; 
Will  urge  us  on  the  mighty  course, 
Until  we  too  are  called  to  he'ven. 
Beneath  the  clods  is  it  the  last, 
Oh  no,  the  memory  of  the  past ; 
As  Bethlehem  star  the  wise  men  led, 
His  light  will  lead  us  though  he's  dead. 


116 


DE  'SCURSION  DAT  YER  RODE. 


Do  you  remember,  boys,  last  summer 

All  dem  'scursions  dat  yer  rode  ? 
Do  you  remember,  boys,  der  money  yer  throde 

away? 

Now  de  snow  is  fallin'  fastly, 
On  yer  feet  der  ain't  no  shoes. 

Don't  yer  wish  yer  had  dat  money,  boys,  ter 
day? 


117 


WHY  SHOULD  I  DEPLORE? 


Oh,  why  should  I  deplore, 

To  have  great  wealth  in  store? 

Haven't  I  health,  food  and  shelter? 
What  need  hath  man  for  more  ? 


118 


GOD  BLESS  THE  SAILOKS. 


God  bless  the  sailors  brave  to-night 

Upon  the  surging  sea, 
Who're  righting  hard  against  the  storm, 

Protecting  you  and  me. 

The  lightning  flash,  the  thunder  peals, 

The  surging  billows  roll ; 
"Tis  then  the  sailor's  work  begins — 

The  boat  they  must  control. 

Oh,  raging  sea,  why  not  be  still  ? 

Oh,  lightning,  thunder,  cease ! 
Oh,  mighty  storm,  why  not  be  calm  ? 

Oh,  why  not  hold  thy  peace? 

Lord,  calm  again  this  raging  sea, 

If  it's  Thy  holy  will ; 
Pray  let  me  hear  Thy  loving  voice, 

Say  to  the  wind,  "  Be  still !" 


119 


GIB  TER  ME  ER  LOCK  OB  YER  HAIR. 


To  morrow,  hun,  I's  gunter  sail  fur  Cuba ; 

I  tel  yer  now  den  Spanards  guiner  fly. 
Mi  lub  fur  yer  bah  filled  mi  heart  wid  sorrow  ; 

I'se  come  ter  bid  yer  all  good-bye. 

Now,  buny,  bur's  er  present  I  wanter  gib  yer; 

Jes  take  dis  ring  an  member  me  an  wear ; 
'N  now  I'se  guinter  ask  ob  yer  a  token  : 

Pra  gib  ter  me  er  lock  ob  yer  bair. 

Now  gib  ter  me  er  lock  ob  yer  bair,  bun, 

Ter  member  whin  I'm  gone. 
Pray  take  dis  ring,  remember  me  and  wear. 

'N  now  I'm  guinter  ask  ob  yer  a  token : 
Pra  gib  ter  me  er  lock  ob  yer  hair. 


J 

U.C.BERKELEY  LIBRARIES 


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